Touch

Today’s inspiration brought to you by this week’s writing prompt on The Figment. If you’re a writer in search of the occasional outburst of inspiration, check it out. My last blog post was inspired by these amazing folks. For folks that know these characters, this will be a treat. For those that don’t, please enjoy the writing.

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Whose hands reached for her in the troubled darkness? Were those hands beloved echoes of the past, the present or her future?

Just before dawn, Christiana Morningstar woke with a startled gasp. Early morning birdsong greeted her ears yet, for the first few moments, she did not acknowledge their existence. Darkness shadowed the daylight shining through her windows. “Just a dream…” She murmured as she sat up in her bed. The palace would soon be abuzz with activity, she knew. The Queen of Maeseloria rose from her bed and donned a robe over her nightgown in haste. She would miss her morning ride if she did not hurry.

After a few minutes seated before her vanity, her breathing slowed and the shell-shocked look began to fade from her sky-shaded eyes. Running her brush through her sleep tousled auburn locks eased her rushed mind. As she calmed, she began to reflect on the options her dreams presented. A hand appeared out of the darkness. Whether the gesture offered comfort or chaos, she could not determine. She did not know if it offered harm or help yet she instinctively understood the decision would require a leap of faith from her. A leap of faith she was not certain she could take.

“You know, Sunspot…” A well-loved and familiar voice intruded on her inner reflections and, for the second time within an hour, Christiana Morningstar stifled a scream that would have brought her guards running. “Those heavy dreams aren’t meaningless.” Jaylor Vincenzo swung in off the balcony with an ease that had Christi shaking her head. Years ago, the man stepped into fill her murdered brother’s shoes. In essence the once-assassin and occasional thief saved her life. “And you should not be sleeping with your balcony doors open. Even in times of peace, people want your lovely head on a platter.”

Christi sighed as she began to plait her hair for the morning. Her glare reflected in the mirror as he approached and flopped into the chair by her vanity with that same uncanny grace that seemed to course through his veins. He was her dearest friend and ally. The realm as they knew it would not exist without him. “Based on your reports, the better question would be who doesn’t?” Her dreams were her business and she had no intention of sharing.

Jay gave her a hard look. “Stop leaving the doors open, please.” The man asked for little from the realm to which he sacrificed so much. When she nodded her agreement, his smile returned. “Do you want to talk about it?” He sighed in response to her negative answer. “Fine, talk to Alex about them. See if she can help you interpret them.” This was not the first or the fifth time he returned to check on her and found her in a scattered state. “For me.”

Christiana’s lips thinned to a line. “Very well. I will.” Before he left her, they spoke of his last covert mission to the South. Her cousins were mobilizing and he also mentioned he would need to speak to their resident sorceress about another matter before she sent him on another mission. Jaylor Vincenzo was the driving force behind the realm’s covert operations unit. Many lives were saved by the information he provided. In the same vein, he acted as her blade to remove opposition. At times, she worried for the blood on his hands.

After he departed, she began to dress for her morning ride. Perhaps daylight would offer clarity. Would that touch be her salvation or damnation?